Ambient Light
by swanderful1
Summary: The year is 1952, and one of Broadway's most creative minds Killian Jones has just returned to New York from a self-imposed exile armed with what he believes to be his most ambitious production yet. But with his entire reputation riddled with scandal, the success of the show is imperative. And for that he needs to perfect star to bring his dreams to life. That star is Emma Swan.
1. Chapter 1

October 16th, 1954

The train station was filled with people, bustling around on the chilly October day. The air was crisp with the threat of fall. The days would grow shorter, the colorful leaves would fall from the trees. The entire landscape of New York City would soon shift with the season. In fact, it was already beginning to.

Emma Swan stood on the crowded train platform. Her bags packed and stacked on the cart next to her. She caught sight of her reflection in the side of the shiny train car. Her maroon sheath dress clung tight to her slim frame. The diagonal buttons that closed the bodice matched the pearls on her black suede gloves that ended just short of her three quarter length sleeves. Emma's signature blonde, curly hair had been pinned back neatly under a simple black hat. She looked sleek, like one of the women she used to see walking through the park.

For a moment she closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. The click of the ladies heels as they scurried after the children. She smelled the hint of coffee in the air as people passed with their steaming cups. It felt oddly familiar to her. And for that moment Emma was no longer Emma Swan, star of the stage. She was simply Emma from Pennsylvania, arriving at this very train station 3 years ago with nothing more than a simple canvas bag and the clothes on her back. When the world was just about to be at her fingertips, and she had no clue what adventures had awaited her.

"And here I thought I would be too late," sounded the gentle lull of a smooth English accent from behind her. Chills ran through Emma's body at the familiar voice.

Opening her eyes she spun around to find Killian Jones standing not ten feet from her. Looking devastatingly handsome as ever in a well-tailored charcoal gray suit that fit him like a glove, his black hair slicked back off of his face. A stray piece hung over his forehead as it usually did when he removed his hat. A smirk danced across his lips as their eyes met. Her green on his blue.

"I'm not a ghost yet, Mr. Jones." She stepped toward him, in that unconscious way one does when there's a connection. "There's no need to look at me like one."

"I was simply admiring you from afar." From behind his back he pulled a bouquet of flowers. Blue irises. Just like he had given her on opening night. "Like I'll have to do when you're in California."

Emma wanted to say that he didn't have to, that he could board the train with her right now and follow her. But she knew that was utterly selfish. His life, his livelihood, his career was in New York. The very idea of him moving to California was unfathomable.

"Are these for me?" she asked, taking the bouquet into her gloved hand. Wishing for a moment that she wasn't wearing gloves so their skin could touch. But here in the busy train station it would hardly be appropriate.

"Aye." He smirked. "It's bad form to say goodbye to someone without bringing a gift."

"And here I am without a gift for you."

"I'll recover, Swan."

"That's because it's not goodbye." Emma's face grew serious. For as much as she couldn't beg him to follow her along forever, she had to believe it wasn't the end with him.

"Of course it's not." Killian glanced down at their feet, scratching behind his ear the way he did when he was nervous. But when he lifted his gaze back up to her he was intent. Confident. That same fire she had seen the first night she met him. In the crowded, smoke filled cocktail lounge. That day was years behind them now, but it still felt so fresh. His hand reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face and it lingered just a touch longer than it should have. "We aren't finished yet."

Despite the fact that they were in a busy train station, surrounded by people and noise and chaos, it felt like they were the only two that mattered. That there was no one else here. And it was a moment Emma didn't want to end. She could have stood there with his hand on her cheek forever. Unfortunately that wasn't possible and as the conductor yelled for boarding, she knew she had to go.

In one smooth movement, his hand slid from her cheek to her wrist, leaving a trail of excited goosebumps all over her body. Emma watched him, as he bent to press a single kiss to the bare skin just above her glove and just below her sleeve.

"Until we meet again, love," he whispered as he stood right up again. Emma wished they were alone, so she could say all of the things she wanted to. So he could hold her in his strong arms again without the lingering eyes of strangers. Instead she settled for plucking an iris from her bouquet and setting it properly in his suit jacket pocket.

"So you won't forget me," she said while gazing up at him, attempting to memorize his face.

He smiled, that devilish grin that made Emma's heart skip.

"As if I could ever forget you."

Moments later, Emma sat quietly in her train car. The locomotive screeching to life. Her whole body lurched forward with the train as it began to move. Against her better judgment she stole a glance at the man who she had just left standing on the platform. With his hat in his hand, Killian Jones stood stoically in place. Raven hair slicked back off of his handsome face. Jaw tight, posture rigid. He looked like more of a statue than a man. A work of art handcrafted of the most exquisite material.

In his suit jacket pocket was the single iris she had given him. It only enhanced the blue color of his eyes, which never left hers. Not until the train had moved clear away from the station did she pull her eyes away. It was then that she allowed a single tear to fall down her cheek. That was the best part of being an actress, the emotive control. For had she let the tear fall in front of him, had she let that part of her heart win out, she would have never left his side.

The trip would take several days, Hollywood was a long way away. But as her journey continued, the further she got from New York and Killian, the more she realized just how much of her heart would still remain there with him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: _This is a story I've had on the mind for a while. And was mostly too scared to move forward with it. I hope anyone reading this enjoys and I promise it'll get more interesting soon. :) Have a great weekend everyone!

_December 1949: New York has high hopes for the return of Liam and Killian Jones. While the pair of brothers is considered to be responsible for Broadway's golden age, their four most recent works were critical and financial disappointments riddled with outside controversy. It has been 3 years since the two worked together on a show and the whole town is watching in anticipation to see the return of an original Jones production._

_The New York Times, Will Scarlett _

December in New York City. It was unlike anything Emma had ever experienced. The loud, bustling streets. The Christmas lights strung from every pole. The energy of a place where everything was happening. It was a long way from her small Pennsylvania home. And it was fairly often, in the three months since she had moved here, that she wondered if she was completely in over her head.

"Blue or purple?" Elsa asked holding up two sequined dresses. Drawing Emma's gaze away from the singular window in their apartment. On the street below the snow covered the sidewalks and lined the streets. It had started hours ago and showed no signs of slowing down.

"Elsa there's absolutely no way we're making it to Nell's tonight," Emma had always been tough but she doubted her ability to trek the 20 blocks to work in this snow.

"Nell's doesn't close for anything, Em." Elsa held the blue up in front of her. Long ice blonde hair was tied loosely in a braid down her back. She had been one of the first people Emma had met when she moved to New York. "I think the blue."

"Always the blue," Emma smiled and stood from her unmade, lumpy twin bed. She, Elsa, and Elsa's sister Anna shared a 1 room apartment on the Upper West Side. It was cramped and most of the time a mess, but it was $18 a week and just about all of them could afford on a cocktail waitress income. "Are you actually going to talk to him tonight?"

Elsa froze, Emma could see the tension in her friend's body the second she even mentioned Liam Jones.

"He comes in every Saturday night, always sits in your section…" Emma zipped her friend into the form fitting sequin dress. The high neck only elongated her figure. And her bright blue eyes were enhanced by its shimmer. "And you always blush when I bring him up."

"What in the world would Liam Jones want with someone like me?"

Emma rolled her eyes. The day her best friend started recognizing herself as a catch would be the day Hell froze over.

"I know I know, we do this every week." Elsa spun to face Emma.

"And when will you start listening to me?"

"Probably never!" called a voice from the closet. The one small, shared closet the three girls had was overflowing with cocktail dresses and jackets and clothes that operated on a rotational basis between Elsa, Anna, and Emma. "Don't feel bad Emma she doesn't listen to me either."

Anna emerged from the closet wearing a slinky black dress, it had been Emma's when she moved to the city and was on its last threads. But it worked for the dark, seedy bar serving drinks to finance guys and their mistresses. That was the kind of place Nell's was.

"I'll wear the red," Emma finally said throwing on the dress Elsa had tossed on her bed. Though her tips were often completely based on how much effort she put into her appearance, she couldn't force herself to care. No matter what she would freeze on their walk to the bar, and her hair would curl under the falling snow.

Twenty minutes and several layers of make up later Emma found herself walking, no sliding, down the sidewalk toward Nell's. She thought about turning back several times. But something propelled her forward. Some unknown force out there that made her want to charge ahead. Little did she know it was a night that would change her entire life. And despite her razor sharp intuition, no amount of awareness could have warned her of it.

Nell's was packed, Emma had never seen it like this before. The unassuming Lower West Side bar was a staple for people who didn't want to be seen. It was tucked away on a lonely side street and you had to walk down a flight of stairs to get inside. Haphazard pictures of patrons from years prior lined the walls. The green shades over the hanging lights gave the place a dim hue where you could still see the person near you but not so bright that it wrecked the mood. It was an intimate place, for secret affairs and new quiet love. It wasn't much, but it was a job. And Emma needed a job desperately. Especially one that allowed her time during the days to go to auditions.

"Why is it so packed? In this weather I thought no one would brave it," Emma said through chattering teeth as she shimmied out of her black wool coat.

"Look over there," Elsa pointed. At one of the tables reserved for the high rollers at the poker ring that operated underground down the street sat Liam Jones and someone else Emma had never seen before.

"Who's that?" she asked assessing the dark figure sitting next to the regular.

"I think… I could be wrong but that looks like the other Jones brother."

"Liam has a brother?" Emma tried to recognize any family resemblance between the two. Surface wise, the only similarity was that they both wore well tailored suits. Where Liam was light Killian was dark. Liam with his curly brown hair, Killian with jet black hair in the dim light of the bar. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared out toward the stage. The scruff on his face highlighting an angular jaw.

"Yeah, that's definitely him. I saw a picture of him in the Times," Anna whispered. "He's back."

"Um… where was he?" The way Anna said 'he's back' sounded so ominous to Emma. Like wherever he had been had not been a good place.

"Exiled to London." Anna said as she stacked drinks on a small round tray. Most were amber liquid in straight looking glasses. "He left three years ago to avoid a massive scandal."

"What scandal was too big for New York?" Emma asked, polishing the glasses behind the bar.

"Have you honestly never heard of the Jones brothers?" Elsa asked incredulously, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she put away the glasses Emma polished. "They wrote _Lullaby_, and _A Lonely Night in New York_. They produced _Carousel_, they were original investors in _Oklahoma_…"

"Broadway royalty. Everything they touched turned to gold," Anna chimed in. Like it was so unbelievable that Emma had no clue what it meant to be in a room with the Jones brothers.

"Then what happened?" Emma asked, eyeing the other Jones as coolly as she could. There was an arrogance to him. She could tell from here. His aloofness penetrated a one hundred foot radius around him. He rubbed his jaw and then his eyes, looking even more bored than when she first noticed him. Elitist.

"What always happens? He had an affair… with this woman who was married to one of the wealthiest men in Manhattan. Conveniently that man had been funding most of their productions. And then when he found out he pulled the plug. On everything."

"Their next 3 shows flopped and Killian left the city to ride out the scandal in London where they're from. But I guess now he's back."

Back he was, though Emma had no idea he had ever been here before. A string of young women moved in and out of the table. It was a seat in the house everyone wanted. Next to two of the most powerful people in theater. Well, formerly powerful.

Emma busied herself with all of her tables. As singer after singer went on stage she wondered if she ever might get up there. Even in this dark, dank venue where there weren't more than forty people it still seemed like the best possible place to be. On that stage. Underneath the glow of the lights. She watched as the man on stage crooned to the words of a slow, whimsical tune.

_I get along without you very well, of course I do. _

_Except when soft rains fall _

Stage fright had plagued her for as long as she could remember. The fear of being watched and observed on a stage. But at the same time it fueled her. Every choice she made in her life was to get closer to being up there.

_And drip from the leaves, then I recall _

_The thrill of being sheltered in your arms_

The song was one Emma recognized from her childhood. Pennsylvania seemed so far away from where she was in this moment. Lost in watching this man perform on a small stage with nothing but a piano and a microphone. He was older than Emma, with a smooth voice and light hair. A boyish look to his face that didn't match his mature singing voice.

_I've forgotten you just like I should_

_Of course I have_

_Except to hear your name _

Emma wiped down tables as she moved through the room. Dodging customers she knew wanted their privacy, engaging with those who loved to talk her ear off. Careful to avoid the ones who felt the need to grab her. It wasn't until the song stopped that she realized someone was trying to get her attention.

"Miss?" a light English accent lilted from a few feet away. And Emma had locked gazes with the most striking pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.

"Yes?" she managed to say despite her embarrassment being caught lost in the song.

"Can I have another whiskey? Neat?"

"Sure." Emma walked over to the table where Killian Jones now sat, alone, and grabbed his empty cup. "Any particular kind?"

"Doesn't matter, love," he said dismissively. She could hardly see him around the cloud of smoke. There was always a light layer of smoke in the club, the aroma of cigarettes. But the air around Killian Jones was extra cloudy.

As she moved away she watched Liam approach with another young woman following closely behind. She couldn't have been much older than Emma. Short red hair. A heavy face of painted on make-up. A fur coat that likely cost more than Emma would make in a year. The girl sat on the end of the booth, right next to Killian.

"Earth to Emma."

"Huh?" Emma snapped out of her staring just in time to watch the whiskey spill over the sides of the glass. "Damn it."

"Something interesting over there?" Anna teased. Though there was no way she could have known where Emma was looking, the bar was too dark for that. "Do you need a minute?"

"I'm fine, just a little tired is all."

"Well, take it easy, okay?" Anna swapped out the spilled glass of whiskey with a fresh one. Poured perfectly. "Here. And take a break if you need one."

Emma watched as Anna navigated between tables to serve a loud group of men sitting opposite the stage. For the most part, the bar was a quiet place, for discrete types. Crowded. But quiet. Every now and again they would get a raucous group of people.

Silently, Emma sat the drink down on the table in front of Killian. Trying not to make eye contact with him and slink away into the dark.

"Excuse me?" the woman sitting next to him piped up just as Emma was about to turn her back. "I'll have whatever he had."

Emma eyed the woman up and down. And while she tried to be demure, lovely at work she knew her expression had to appear with disbelief.

"A whiskey… neat?" Emma scoffed.

The woman looked at her like she couldn't believe the audacity of a cocktail waitress to make any kind of comment that was anything less than directly accommodating.

"Sorry, uh, coming right up." Emma was about to turn when she caught sight of a smirk on the broodier Jones' face. Or at least she thought it was a smirk.

After several more runs back and forth to the bar, Emma checked the time. Midnight. Her feet were killing her in the heels she had to wear. It was why she preferred to work behind the bar. At least then she could wear flats. But she Elsa, and Anna switched off and tonight was Elsa's night to be off the floor. Which Liam Jones did not seem to be thrilled with.

"I can't take them anymore," Anna sighed setting down her tray on the bar. It had been a few hours of working now and the initial facade of polite flirtation had faded. The girls were now lingering dangerously close to counting their tips in their head and envisioning their walk home.

"What?" Emma asked pouring another round of whisky for the Jones table. This was their third round but the men were still uncharacteristically stiff around one another. Like they weren't even brothers.

"That table over there…"

"HEY HONEY!" a loud voice yelled her way. Emma looked over and of course it was the table Anna was now hiding behind the bar avoiding.

"I've got it," Emma nodded, before handing the tray of whiskey to Anna. "Take this to the broadway royalty table please. They're boring me."

"What can I get for you?" Emma said in the sweetest voice she could muster once she reached the disruptive group of men. Given the circumstances.

"Another round for the table, and something stiff for you as well," the man at the head commented. He wore a wrinkled suit and with some sort of grease stain down the front. And his leering gaze made Emma highly uncomfortable despite the fact that she was fully clothed. His rounded chubby face was red from drink and his dirty hands wrapped around his pitcher, draining what was left into his mouth. When he set the cup back down Emma noticed a wedding ring on his finger. Somewhere out there he had a wife.

"Coming right up," she gritted through her teeth.

Emma spun on her heel and walked heavily to another table. But her eyes kept finding Killian Jones.

It wasn't a feeling she normally succumbed to. Intrigue. Most people were plain as day to her, motives clear. But for whatever reason she wondered about this man. Compared to the other tables filled with groups now feeling the effects of a night of drinking, he stuck out. Liam was now over at the bar, trying desperately to capture Elsa's attention. And the girl who had been with them was boredly watching the next performer on stage.

As Killian Jones' eyes were locked with hers, he drained the glass in his hand and set it gently down on the table.

"Can I get you another?" she asked when her feet carried her right to him. Emma supposed she was desperate to avoid the rowdy table she had walked away from.

"Actually no, I am here on a specific mission," he said smoothly. Despite the loudness of the bar he didn't need to yell for her to hear him loud and clear. He was handsome up close, arrogant to be sure but handsome nevertheless.

"Most people come in because they're lonely. Or trying to hide someone." Nell's had certainly seen its fair share of affairs. Emma wondered if Killian had come here with the woman he had an affair with.

"Actually, love, neither of those are my purpose for being here." He leaned back in the booth his arms, the air thick with his arrogance.

"Ah, I see you two have found each other," said Liam who seemingly appeared out of nowhere with two glasses of whatever the man at the table was drinking. "Emma Swan this is Killian Jones, Killian this is Emma."

The man with the blue eyes kept his gaze on her. Not in a way that made her feel violated, the way the men at the big table had. No, the way this Killian Jones looked at her was analytical. Not that she minded.

"Emma, Killian is my brother. Back from a long trip home to London. And we are in a bit of a jam." Liam resumed his place next to his brother just as the girl next to Killian scurried off toward one of the bouncers who had just walked in. "We are looking to cast our next show."

"Oh?" Emma was intrigued. Why would two people who could cast anyone they want, look in a hole in the wall bar for their show?

"We hear there are quite a few talented people who perform here regularly. And we're looking for someone no one's heard of yet." Liam said pouring some champagne into three flutes. He was a kind man, Liam was. He knew every cocktail waitress by name and tipped generously. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Hmm…" Emma thought for a moment. She worked most nights of the week and each night there was a string of new performers. However Saturday was the busiest. "Well you're here a good night. Saturday is typically the strongest lineup. Gino's up next, he's amazing plus he plays the saxophone."

Liam took the third champagne flute and offered it to Emma, who politely waved it away. She didn't enjoy drinking on the clock. It made her slower.

"Tanya goes on around 1 and she can really keep a crowd. She's new. From Jersey."

"Hey honey, I thought you were getting us another round!" the grotesque group of men she had served before encountering Killian and Liam called to her.

"Excuse me," she said to the brothers before briskly walking away.

"It's busy tonight, I was distracted," she replied without thinking once she reached the other table. .

"Maybe if I was as pretty as your boyfriend over there I could have your attention," the red-faced man at the head seat said.

"He is not my boyfriend," Emma bit back. Her tolerance for disrespect fading fast.

"Oh yeah?" he grabbed her, pulled her up against him.

His chubby arms engulfing her entire waist. Emma squirmed at the contact, pressed to him she could smell the liquor seeping through his sweat. He half pressed her body against the edge of the table which kept her in place.

"Then why is he walking over here right now? Huh?"

Emma's head turned slightly, the only part of her body not encased in this man's disgusting grasp. Sure enough Killian Jones was walking toward them. His face hardened into a glare. What did he think he was going to do? Save her? My, my how noble of him.

Emma let him get a little closer, until Killian was only a few feet away. That was when she moved. Her leg that was pressed against the table was secure for leverage, the other was free to move. Or more appropriately it was free to stomp on her aggressor's foot with the heel of her shoe.

When he bent over in pain he bumped her chin and she bit clean through her lip. Emma felt the blood begin to ooze from her as he somehow had the audacity to cling to her for support. She lifted her knee and hit him in the crotch, fully releasing herself from his grasp. Still bent over she slammed his head into the wooden table and he fell to the floor. Emma stepped away from the keening man. Not another soul at that table dare approach her. The only one who did was Killian Jones.

"I tried to get here fast enough, I'm sorry, love," he said in the most charming tone she had ever heard.

"It's alright." Emma used her sleeve to wipe the blood from her lip, ever the lady. "I don't make a habit of waiting for other people to save me."

She wasn't sure if he was impressed by her or scared of her. Most of the other men around were twice her size but in no way did they press her. Killian's reaction was different though, he appeared almost amused as he reached into his pocket and handed her a linen cloth.

"Emma what happened?" Anna's soft voice drew Emma out of her anger. The friendly faced redhead with her hair braided in two pulled Emma toward her.

"Just Johnny getting too cosy with me again without my consent," Emma spit the remaining blood from her mouth onto the floor near where he lay, then daintily gave the handkerchief back to Killian. "Thank you for your token, Mr. Jones. But as you can see I am quite alright."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." The smirk on his face was evident despite the effort he was making to disguise it.

With that Killian was off, bowing gracefully and leaving her presence. Emma watched him as he sauntered back to his table.

Her eyes remained on him even as she followed the two sisters to the stockroom.

"What was that?" Anna whisper yelled, shoving Emma down to a stack of boxes. "Are you crazy? That man was twice your size."

"I still won," Emma said spitting out more blood onto the floor. She could taste the crimson in her mouth and it only made her more angry.

"Not the point," Elsa bent down to wipe her friend's mouth with a wet rag. She was gentler than her sister but Emma could still see concern. "There is security for a reason."

"If I had waited for security he would have won."

Elsa rolled her eyes as she continued to wipe Emma clean. There were a few times when Emma was grateful for the heels. This moment was one of them. Imagine trying to stomp out someone in a sensible flat.

"Did Liam talk to you?" Elsa asked after a few minutes and Anna had gone back out to tame the dwindling crowd. The clock said it was nearing 2 am now, which meant the night was almost over. "I told him you're an actress, you know, they're trying to cast their next show."

"You what?"

"Em, this could be your big break!"

"What about you? Or anyone else?" Emma's nerves kicked in. Somehow she could reduce a grown man to crying on the floor, but getting up on stage. It still freaked her out.

"Come on… you know how talented you are. It's why you're here." Elsa stood, reaching out her hand. They had hid away long enough. "At least go audition. See what happens."

Emma paused a moment. Looking around at the shelves lined with liquor bottles and glassware. The ice bucket overturned in the corner. It was so dingey and worn. The whole place was. And, as far as Emma was concerned, it was good money. When you grow up with no money, anything is good. But did she really move to New York to stand still?

"Alright, but if you don't get moving soon you may end up here the rest of your life. Kneeing men in the crotch until you're 90."

"Maybe that's what I want," Emma joked. Her friend smiled back at her, the bone structure of Elsa's face was so fair and dainty. Every angle, even the fluorescent light in the stock room, was flattering. The two girls walked arm and arm back out to the floor to work the remainder of the night.

And thankfully the table of men who harassed Emma had gone.

The remaining hour of Emma's shift was far less eventful, the tables had mostly cleared. The space was quieter. And she watched as the last performer of the night left the stage. She could officially go home.

Outside the snow had stopped but the ground was still slush and the air was still cold. There was something so peaceful about the middle of the night after a snowstorm. Especially in New York. During the day this street was full of life, people, cabs. But right now it was scarce. The quiet pocket of the city was like a secret. One that only the patrons of Nell's knew about.

Emma was waiting for Anna and Elsa to finish up when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Emma Swan, was it?" the smooth english accent hit her like a brisk wind. "How's your lip?"

For the first time she got a good look at him. Killian Jones. Who was considerably taller than her. And much too pretty to be anything but a sculpture.

"I'll live," she joked, as she felt it with her tongue she realized it would probably be swollen in the morning. Well, it already was the morning.

"You know I've been in a lot of bars before and never seen anything quite like that."

"Glad you got to see the show."

"Emma! We're freezing!" Anna called from a few feet away. Emma had been so distracted again by Killian Jones she had hardly noticed her friends were ready for the walk home.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones," Emma said, daintily, extending her hand to shake his.

"You as well, Swan." He nodded, taking her hand in his and shaking. The small gesture one that brought a slight smile to her numb from the cold face. She thought he might add 'I hope to see you again' but he didn't. Which was probably for the best.

Though the night was freezing cold, there was a fire burning beneath her skin from where her hand had met Killian's. She couldn't quite pin it, the feeling that lingered in the pit of her stomach, but her intuition about going into work had been right. As Elsa, Anna and Emma walked arm in arm back to their little apartment, Emma smiled. Vowing to ice her lip when she got home.

It was a night, an encounter that would change her life, and the fire beneath her skin was only the beginning.


End file.
